"Colonel, I must check your physical and mental state," she insisted.
Finally, he was able to get some words out in a coarse voice.
"There are plenty more people that need your help. Go bother them."
She looked to Alita who only nodded in agreement. "He's fine."
The medic begrudgingly agreed and quickly ran over to Lorenzo when she saw him carrying a patient. As he lay him down on a trolley, her eyes widened in shock; she had recognised the patient. For a moment she wasn't even able to move a muscle.
"Stop gawking and help, or do you want to be responsible for the death of the President of the Alliance?" Lorenzo asked in a surprisingly calm tone.
Taylor could tell he had seen enough blood and death that it didn't rattle him anymore, or at least that was the face he showed to the world. Taylor could relate to that. He had a hard job, and so many relied on him to make it look easy. Alita threw her one good arm around him and pulled him in tight. He wheezed as the wind was taken out of him.
"Sorry," she exclaimed.
"Help me up."
She tried, but couldn't manage it with all that he weighed in his gear and her injury. Jones helped, and he was soon on his feet, even if he did feel rather unstable. A lifeboat opened nearby, and Captain Fortier stepped out with the bridge crew they had left behind when they rescued the President. He looked lost, as if he didn't know what to do.
"Fortier!" Taylor called over to him.
The Captain shambled over to him with a stunned look on his face.
"The Indy needs a Captain. Wilcox is wounded and will not return to duty for the foreseeable future, if ever. I am a marine, not a sailor, do you want the job?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
"Good, well you’ve got it, anyway. Report for duty immediately, and take any of your staff with you. They will likely be needed."
He slowly nodded his agreement before gesturing towards the survivors who had come with him. Taylor had no idea what kind of Captain he would make, but the list of those qualified to do so was rather slim at present.
"Do you think the President will pull through?" Alita asked.
"I don’t know, we can only hope. How goes the fight?"
She sighed, and he could tell from her response that it wasn't good. He tapped a few keys on his Mappad for a direct line to Vega. The Admiral was projected before him in a matter of seconds, as if he had been waiting for Taylor's call. Sparks were flying in the background, and warning lights flashed that lit the Admiral's face up with a pulsating frequency.
"We can't take much more of this, Colonel. What is the status of the President?"
"We have him, but I can't say whether he will survive."
Vega sighed in despair.
"Honest opinion, Admiral, can we win this fight?"
He didn't need to say a word, as it was written all over his face. Taylor reached out for Jones’ help and and began to make his way to the bridge.
“What do we do, Colonel?”
They both knew that everyone could hear them on either side of the line. Nobody was in any doubt as to how grave the situation was. He thought back to the day he was in this very situation before and knew what he had to do. It made him sick to the stomach to know it was their only choice, but it was that or death.
“We run,” he replied faintly.
“What?”
“You heard me, Admiral,” he replied clearly, “We cannot win this fight. We have taken a goddamn beating. We need to go while we still can, repair and re-group, and come at them fresh another day.”
“And leave Earth at their mercy?”
“She’s in a damn better state than when I had to leave her in the Krys wars. They have whole armies down there that will do their share of this fight. Let’s get out now, or we’ll be no good to anyone.”
The Admiral didn’t want to accept it.
“Admiral, you gave me command of this fleet to do what needed to be done. Now I am telling you what needs to be done. Put it on my head. I don’t care. Just get us the hell out of here!”
Vega was going pale at the prospect of doing what he had sworn an allegiance to protect. Taylor, Jones, and Alita stepped into an elevator that would take them the final way to the bridge.
“Where can we go?” Vega asked in desperation.
An idea shot into Taylor’s head as if it were destiny pointing her finger.
“Erzurum,” he responded without hesitation.
“What? Why would you want to go back there?”
He thought back to the primitive and savage world that almost cost his old comrade Jafar his life. A planet inhabited by the most simple and barbaric Krys peoples, but somehow, he knew it was what he had to do.
“We’ll be safe there, safer than anywhere else right now. I can’t explain why, just set a course and get us there, now!”
“Are you sure about this, Colonel?”
He shook his head.
“Not really, but something tells me it’s the place to go, and anywhere is better than here.”
"But..."
Lights flashed in the background as another fire broke out behind the Admiral. It silenced him as he turned to look at the damage, recoiling as sparks began to fly.
"Just do it, Admiral, or we won't make it out at all."
He begrudgingly agreed.
"Send word to the fleet to plot a course to Erzurum."
The doors of the elevator opened as he finished, and they stepped out into a whirlwind. It was chaos as the crew tried to manage the repairs and weapons systems at once. Fortier turned around, visibly sighing in relief at seeing Taylor step aboard.
"Colonel, we are getting orders to jump to somewhere called Kara...ba..." he hesitated as he tried to pronounce it.
"That's correct."
"Why? What the hell is there?"
"They are my orders. Plot a course, and prepare to jump on the Admiral's orders."
He didn't understand it, but he looked glad to be getting out of the hellish situation they had found themselves in.
“Sure you know what you are doing?” Jones whispered over his shoulder.
“Not really.”
The countdown rang out, but even before they jumped, the vicious barrage of the enemy fire blew another two friendly ships apart. It was clear to them all now that there was no hope of victory that day.
“Three…two…”
“Jump gate signatures!”
Flashes erupted as dozens more enemy hips poured into the system and only further underlined how desperate their situation was.
“One…jump!”
Taylor had never felt so glad to feel the stomach turning wrench that he had grown so sick of. In a flash they were gone. Away from all the death and destruction that littered their screens. Nobody wanted to think about the horrific losses they had endured, but they would have all the time in the world to dwell on it now they were at a safe distance.
Before they knew it, there was Erzurum, a stark and lonely looking world. There were no ships in orbit, not even a scout vessel to keep watch. That didn't surprise Taylor. Since the Barbarlars had made their peace with him and the rest of the Krys people, there seemed little to threaten them.
"Why here, of all places?"
Alita had crept right up beside him, and he hadn't even noticed. He still wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know how or why. I just know this is the place.”
“But there’s nothing here,” she protested, “Nothing but a few savages who don’t care for the rest of the living beings in this universe.
“No, they will fight when the time is right.”
“And the time isn’t right now?”
He shrugged, as that certainly was a fair question.
“Colonel, we are getting calls for assistance from four vessels, and we can barely cope with the repairs and casualties we have ourselves,” declared Fortier.
“Strip whatever resources we can. There’ll be plenty worse off than us,” replie
d Taylor as he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Fortier asked in amazement.
“To find out if it was all worth it. I understand how bad all this is, and plenty of men and women laid down their lives for what we had to achieve. That was to save Isaacs. I want to know they didn’t die in vain.”
He wasn’t at all hopeful regarding the President’s condition, but he didn’t say anything for the rest of them to hear.
“We could be back on the line in no time, so get us ready,” added Taylor before storming off the bridge.
Jones and Alita followed him, as they didn’t know what else to do.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” Jones asked once they had left the bridge.
“I fucking hope so. We risked our asses to save that idiot.”
“Idiot?” Alita asked in surprise.
He looked back to see she was expecting some kind of explanation.
“What the hell was he doing there? Aboard the grid when he knew what shit could go down?”
“Perhaps he was doing his job? Inspiring the people who fight for him, like you do?”
Taylor sighed, but he half nodded in agreement. It made more sense than anything else he had heard. Not another word was spoken as they made their way to the medical facility where the President was being treated. They passed a seemingly endless number of physically and mentally wounded crewmembers who lined the corridors, either awaiting treatment or too shell-shocked to move. For many of them, it was their first taste of combat, and it had been a bitter one. Taylor pitied them, for it was an especially brutal and harrowing introduction to the horrors of what their lives would be from now on.
As they neared the entrance to the medical facility, they noticed four marines guarding a side door. It was obvious what they were there for. They were Taylor's own, but he didn't recognise any of them. Since the creation of his new Regiment, he'd barely had time to get to know many. In some ways he didn't want to; it would just be more friends to lose in the coming days and weeks. He stepped through the door to see a doctor watching and waiting as a machine did the work for him. The President's wounds were being seen to, and he was still conscious, but only just. He was severely sedated.
"Will he make it?" Taylor asked.
The doctor nodded.
"He's making good progress, Colonel."
Taylor quietly let out a sigh. Although he began to wonder if that was wishful thinking, as the doctor's assessment was nothing if a little vague.
"Isaacs, how are you feeling?"
"Great, I feel great," he slurred, "Did we...did we win?"
"Sorry, Sir, not by a long shot, but we live to fight another day."
"Good, good."
He wasn't going to get any sensible answers and was just wasting time.
"How long until he can get back to work, Doc?"
"The President will need a few weeks rest at least."
"Don't give me the ideal. He had a job to do, we all do. When will he be able to do that?"
"Colonel, this patient will be no good to you without rest, and you may well do more damage if you expect more of him before he has had the time he requires. He may be putting on a brave face, but I can assure you that is mostly the drugs. He is still in a severe condition."
Taylor looked at the man with disgust.
"Doc, I don't think you get the picture here, do you? You need to take a reality check and pull your head out of your own ass."
Jones couldn't help but laugh, but the doctor looked defiant.
"You have your job, Colonel, and I have mine. You kill, I save, so let's stick to what we know, don't you think?"
Taylor was actually impressed with how he stood up for himself, even if he didn't agree with the rather simple assessment of their work.
"We need him. Earth needs him. The whole Alliance needs him, just do what you can."
He walked out, swearing under his breath.
"You really know how to make friends," said Jones.
Taylor ignored the comment. He looked back and forth at the lines of wounded awaiting treatment. He felt lost and alone. Everyone looked to him, but he didn't have any answers. He didn't even know why he had brought them there. A savage wilderness inhabited by barbaric peoples. Suddenly, he leapt forward into a brisk pace as if he had somewhere of vital importance to be.
"Where are you going?" Alita asked, trying to keep up with him.
"Zaya, this is all on him. Maybe he has some answers for us."
They soon reached the reinforced cell near the brig where they knew they would find the Morohtan outcast. He was guarded by several of the ship's crew, as well as a whole squad of Taylor's own people, with Sommer in charge and Turan standing beside her, two officers of separate elements of his unit, both who he had fought with so recently. They talked as if they were the best of friends, but stopped and turned to salute as Taylor approached.
Taylor casually waved them off as if he had no care for the formality.
"Is he still alive?"
Sommer looked surprised.
"I...I thought you knew?"
"Knew what?"
"The prisoner is recovering at quite a rate of knots. The doctors started patching him up, but his body soon started doing the job for him."
If that’s the case, maybe Bolormaa could recover, too?
"Open the door."
The vast thick steel doors slid open on their rails, and he walked inside. Zaya was sitting casually in the corner of the room. Thick shackles and chains were secured to each limb, waist, and even his neck.
"I'd like to say I am glad to see you pulled through, but in all honesty, you fucked us, and you know it," stated Taylor.
Zaya shrugged as if he didn't care at all.
"I did what needed to be done," he replied coldly.
"Sending an invasion force to Earth? That needed to be done?"
"Yes."
"Tell me why. Try and explain it in a way that doesn't make me want to end you right here and now."
There was a bitter anger in his tone, and Jones and Alita felt there was a genuine risk that Taylor might actually go through with it. They watched the Colonel's hand hovered over the hilt of his Assegai, but they couldn't say a word. Taylor took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself as Zaya went on.
"You have sacrificed lives to win a war. You are no different to me."
That only made Taylor even angrier, but he knew his anger would do him no good. For any of his faults, Zaya had fought against Bolormaa, and that meant something.
"You may have no regard for human life, but I know you want the same thing as us. You want Bolormaa dead and buried."
"Yes, that is true," he replied firmly.
"We need each other. I just don't know if I can trust you. In fact, I would go as far to say I know I can't trust you."
"If you let me go, I will do everything in my power to kill her, no matter where it takes me, no matter what it costs, or what I have to sacrifice. If it would cost the destruction of your world and all of your humans, I would do it."
Taylor sighed in frustration. He couldn't think of a way of making it work, but he also knew he needed Zaya. He was the most powerful ally he could ever hope for.
"Is there no way I can release you without the risk that you will destroy everything I care for?"
"No," he replied quickly.
Taylor appreciated his honesty, but it wasn't helpful.
"Look, Zaya, Bolormaa has to die. We can do this together, but apart, I don't know what chance we have. You think about it."
He strode out of the room and waited for the doors to close before saying a word. As they locked shut, all eyes were on him, but he had nothing to say to them.
"Don't take your eyes off him, not for a moment," he ordered as he strode off. Jones and Alita still followed him everywhere he went. They all felt powerless in such an awful situation.
"So where to?"
"The bridge, we need to get an idea of the fleet's st
atus. Re-group and do what we can to get ready to go back onto the line."
"You think that's gonna happen? If we couldn't defeat them before, what makes you think it will be any different if we go back?"
Taylor didn't seem fazed by Jones’ doubts.
"We lost a battle, and we made a tactical withdrawal. There is plenty to fight for."
Jones didn't say another word, and they were soon stepping onto the bridge once more. It was a hive of activity, and Fortier looked exhausted.
Taylor made just two steps inside when light flashed before their eyes.
"Jump gates opening!" a voice cried out.
Taylor felt his heart sink.
"They have followed us!" Jones said under his breath.
Ships poured in from the jump gates, but the gates cast long shadows so that they could not be identified. It was a vast fleet that looked like it was assembling for a major invasion or assault. Taylor almost stopped breathing for a moment, instinctively thinking they would be the enemy.
"Who? Who are they?" Fortier asked with a scared quiver in his tone. The gates closed, and the light began to normalise. There was an eerie silence on the bridge as they waited. Taylor calmed himself and stepped closer to study the screens. He recognised one of the larger vessels, and a smile drew across his face.
"The Yavuz!" Taylor declared gleefully, "Jafar's flagship."
Even as he spoke, he saw another fleet begin to appear from behind the cover of the planet.
"Cholans?" asked Jones.
"It's the Nakbe!" an excited voice called out from behind them.
Taylor doubted it, but as he watched and looked closer, he realised it was true. The huge and unmistakeable prow crept out from the cover of the planet to join the Krys vessels.
"Well, I'll be damned."
"We're being hailed by the Yavuz!" an excited crewmember called out.
"Put them through!" Taylor roared without giving Fortier the chance to say so.
Moments later his old friend appeared projected before them - Jafar. He was donned in the finest Krys armour, worthy of the Krys High Lord that he had become.
"What are you doing here, you crazy bastard?" Taylor asked.
"We came to join this fight," he replied simply.
Taylor smiled. "And you are most welcome."
Cheers rang out across the bridge, as he turned back, he saw the relief on Jones and Alita's faces. They couldn't tell if he'd planned it or was just lucky, but he could see the hope it had brought them.
Battle Beyond Earth: Revenge Page 5